Damaged Flowers

Part Three

9 years later

The day was sad and stubborn. Grey cotton-balls full of tears clouded the sky, looming over people, sucking out their happiness, but without success. The sun was no longer in sight and many lights had to be turned on to do its dirty work. There was a wet-grass smell as it had rained earlier—to our horror. I loved inhaling the scent; it calmed me and brought me back to my senses. The chilly breeze didn't waver the chatter among the people or shut down their smiling faces.

I was peaking from Poppy's kitchen window, which overlooked the back garden, and grinned at the guests. Today was the day and another step was going to be made into existence. It must be an important day, you might ask? Yes, a wedding was going to take place.

The pearl-coloured chairs were set in neat rows, with long snakes of flowers and fairy lights adorning the back of each chair. The daisies glowed under the warm light and the poppied turned a more soft red. A long, ivory carpet was placed in the middle of two parties of chairs, clearing the pathway for the bride, flower girl and others. Rose petals had already been clumsily dropped by Jacob's twins but no one fretted about it.

"OH MY FU—"

"Oi! Watch your mouth, no swearing!" I corrected, pointing an accusing finger at my sister and wagging it for more emphasis.

Isabella threw her hands in the air and let out a long, dramatic frustrated moan.

"Everything is ruined!" she started, "It already rained so what's stopping mother-nature from doing it again?"—she cocked a well-plucked eyebrow—"The cake might be too small for everyone and it arrived in a chocolate flavour not VANILLA! Who even likes chocolate? Oh and by the way, the hairdresser and makeup artist are late. Everything is a FUDGING mess!"

I wobbled—being eight months pregnant—to her side and clutched her hands in mine. The wedding was soon to start and she was a centimetre close to a full blown sobbing match.

"You listen to me," I said seriously, "everything's going to be okay. If it rains, it will be fun. You'll get to kiss in the rain like those cheesy films. Secondly, everyone loves chocolate and you're just weird. The amount of food you got will be enough to feed a whole country so don't worry about the cake. The hairdresser and makeup artist can go sod it because we're going to make you as natural as you should be and not covered with tubs of makeup. My wedding was worse than yours, for the record."

My wedding was in the countryside. It was so sunny everyone couldn't see and some got hay-fever. The wind was horrible--blowing from every direction and bringing everything to the ground. Some of the food had been forgotten on a pavement next to the shop and it had arrived soggy and disgusting. Finely stained most guests' outfits with mud from somewhere he decided to visit. The speakers were faulty because the DJ didn't think to check before if everything was fine, so we had to get local musicians--which wasn't really bad. Everything hadn't went according to plan and the tears I shed that day could have filled buckets.

Miraculously, that seemed to calm her down because she nodded and took shaky deep breaths. A second later, as if sensing a stressed Isabella, Poppy came rushing inside, her rose strapless dress flowing behind her. She sensed the air and reassured Isabella, her arms going all over the place so she could explain how her wedding had went.

"Okay!" Annie ran inside. "I can help! I was a part-time makeup artist in college became a vet."

Poppy, Isabella and I looked at each other, sharing "can we trust her with our faces" looks.

"Oh come on!" Annie said, infuriated.

We nodded—we didn't have another option—and she set off working. A few seconds later, Levi pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks. Poppy was in an awkward position with her leg resting on the chair, trying to pull up her tights; Isabella's face was contorted in a weird expression because Annie was applying mascara, and I was holding my bulging stomach, breathing deeply, as if I was going into labour.

"Erm..." he trailed off. We all shouted at him to come in and shut the door and he obliged, scared of us. "I can help with the hair...?"

"Is that a statement or a question?" I asked, looking at him as if he had strolled into the wrong bathroom—which he kind of did but in a different context because men didn't usually cross this territory.

"I watched lots of Youtube videos so I could do Bonnie's hair," he explained. Bonnie was his girlfriend. She was the kindest. She was tall and had a pear figure, her dark skin complimented her shocking emerald eyes.

"Well, make a move on it, son," Poppy demanded.

Everyone was rushing like their life depended on it and in no time we had all been ready and dressed, our appearances impeccable. Poppy and I were styling german braids, flowers weaved between our hair. The makeup was kept light and natural, our best features highlighted. Isabella's hair was left long and wavy behind her back, a few strands were braided and accessorised with small daisies. Her eyes popped with the salmon eyeshadow and the black eyeliner. Her rose-shaped lips were painted in a light blush-pink, and her makeup couldn't look any better. Her silk, beige ballgown was designed with beautiful lace and beads. It made her look like a true princess.

"Alright everyone, it's time!" Annie shouted, rounding us up an checking that everything was in check.

The music had started—Levi must have informed them—and one by one, the couples filed down. First went the flower girl and page boy (Jacob's twins), throwing petals in the air like confetti, then went Annie and Jacob, Levi and Bonnie, and finally Poppy and Oliver. Then came Isabella in her magical gown and nervous lip-biting. I took her hand in mine and walked down with her down the aisle. I spotted Elizabeth in the crowd clutching a woman's hand—her wife—and I smiled at her, understanding her story from a while back. She had finally done it. She was happy now.

Isabella's husband-to-be was holding his hands in front of him, his best men backing him up. His eyes were twitching with unshed tears and when he got the full view of his breathtaking wife-to-be, his fingers covered his mouth and wet streaks formed on his cheeks. No one was laughing at him but they all softened their looks and nodded their heads in mutual emotions.

When we arrived at the base of the seats, I let go of her trembling hand and kissed her forehead, rubbing the spot of my lipstick right after and giggled to myself.

"I love you, Isabella," I said tenderly.

"Aren't I supposed to be saying that?" Alex asked, trying to lighten Isabella's anxiousness. It worked because everyone laughed.

I passed my sister's hand to his and nodded acceptingly. I took my seat beside Alfie's, intertwining my fingers with his, my left hand on top of his—which was on my stomach. My ring glittered in the lights and I smiled up at him. We had found our way back to each other alright. We weren't perfect but we were fighting the problems. We were growing together.

Everything had turned out fine after all.